The idee! [Illustration: "How sweet she would look!"] And as I wended on at a pretty good jog after hearin' 'em, I sez to myself-- "Some wimmen are born fools, some achieve foolishness, and some have foolishness thrust on 'em, and I guess them two had all three of 'em." I said it to myself loud enough so's Josiah heard me, and he sez in joyful axents-- "I am glad, Samantha, that you have come to your senses at last, and have a realizin' sense of your sect's weaknesses and folly." And I wuz that wrought up with different emotions that I wuz almost perfectly by the side of myself, and I jest said to him-- "Shet up!" I wouldn't argy with him.

I wuz fearful excited a-contemplatin' the heights of true womanhood and the depths of fashionable folly that a few--a very few--of my sect yet waded round in.
But after I got quite a considerable distance off, I instinctively turned and looked up to the face of that noble creeter, the Republic.
And I see that she didn't care what wuz said about her.
Her face wuz sot towards the free, fresh air of the future--the past wuz behind her.

The winds of Heaven wuz fannin' her noble fore-top, her eyes wuz lookin' off into the fur depths of space, her lips wuz wreathed with smiles caught from the sun and the dew, and the fire of the golden dawn.
She wuz riz up above the blame or praise--the belittlin', foolish, personal babblin' of contemporary criticism.
Her head wuz lifted towards the stars.
But to resoom, and continue on..